


Not worse, just different

by Twitzy



Category: Ylvis
Genre: Gen, haircut aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 16:45:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2739725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twitzy/pseuds/Twitzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bård's breath met the surface of the mirror as he leaned closer yet to inspect the damage. He still couldn't grasp the fact that he no longer was the owner of that majestic mane he had loved so much. It was like saying goodbye to an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not worse, just different

**Author's Note:**

> I did a thing. It's short and silly and I'm sorry for the bad lyrics change.  
> This most probably did not happen, but you know that. I feel like I don't need to remind you again that this isn't real.  
> Also, sorry for any typos or grammar misakes!  
> Have fun reading, maybe. :)

Bård stood in front of the bathroom mirror, electric razor in his right hand. He looked at his reflection with a surprising amount of confidence. His fingers clenched tightly around the humming device as he raised his arm once again to pass it along his temple and behind his right ear. The last honey blond strands of hair fell into the sink.

He unplugged the razor, put it away on the top shelf and started cleaning, getting rid of every evidence that might have reminded him of his former looks. When he was done, he leaned over the sink again and let his scrutinizing eyes wander over his bald head.

“I look like a freakin' cancer patient. Or a skinhead. A skinhead in chemo treatment.”

Bård crinkled his nose and let his fingertips run over the soft stubble that the razor had left on his head. Definitely strange.

All the confidence had left him. God, how he regretted the decision now. Why had everyone around him agreed? A tonsure, for god's sake! Who the hell had even thought of that? Oh right, that had been him!

“What a fuckin' comedic genius you are, Bård Ylvisåker. And now look where your great ideas have taken you.” He ran his hands over his face. He was so tired. Maybe he should get a wig.

“You don't look so bad.” Vegard came up behind Bård.

He reached up to slide his hands up his brother's tense shoulders and neck to let his palms come to rest on the newly visible scalp.

“It's weird.” Bård grimaced and looked into the other's eyes in the mirror.

“I thought you were okay with doing it?” Vegard's fingers splayed out and stroked over the soft stubble lightly.

“I was. I am. But I still miss it. I keep trying to tuck it behind my ears. It's like phantom pain.”

Bård closed his eyes.

Vegard chuckled and let go of his brother's head in order to turn him around.

“You're still as pretty. Don't you worry, Prince Charming, the ladies will still love you.” He smirked.

“Pff..as if I care. But thanks anyway, you dork.” Once again, Bård felt his hand rise up as if on its own accord to feel that his hair was really gone. “I just feel so exposed now.”

“May I remind you that you once jumped around butt naked on a trampoline and had it shown on TV?”

“That was different. You don't get it. You still have all your fucking hair.” Bård left the bathroom and went to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. Vegard followed him, switching off the light as he went.

“Hey! Don't get mad at me now. I don't care if you have hair on your egghead or not, you're still the same pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, well sorry for being a bit grumpy. Excuse me, sir.”

“Bård. Stop.” Vegard stood there, leaning against the counter as he watched his brother get a glass and pouring water in it. Why did he even put up with this? He really hadn't expected Bård to get so sensitive after having his hair cut off. Granted, it was a big change, but he was a grown man and he had been the one to suggest it in the first place. So there was no reason to be such an idiot now. Especially towards Vegard, who had tried to talk him out of it before it had been publicly announced. It wasn't his fault that the know-it-all had refused to rethink it.

“I get it. It's new and uncomfortable. But please, get over yourself. It was for a good cause. And you came up with the idea. Besides, It'll grow back. So stop being so difficult.”

Instead of an answer, all Vegard got was his brother pushing him aside so he could pass and move towards the living room.

“Hey! I'm talking to you.”

“I heard you, Vegard. Don't worry. And yes, I know it's fucking irrational and idiotic, but can I please get some time to get used to this? It's so strange, so different.”

Vegard couldn't help but laugh at his little brother, sitting there on the couch with a desperate expression on his face, mourning his hair. What a weirdo.

“Of course you can. But different can be good. I mean, most of the people in Norway will be okay with it. After all, we are a tolerant bunch.”

Bård groaned and let himself fall back against the backrest of the couch. He knew what was coming.

“Vegard, don't you dare-”

It was too late. Vegard had started humming, getting into his drama pose. He fixed Bård with an intense stare and made an overly boybandish gesture, letting his hand rest on his chest and then stretching it out towards the reluctant figure on the sofa, making a grabbing motion with his fingers.

_“I turn around and look into your eyes and say: Bård, I've got a secret too._

_I've got to put so much pomade in my hair, though I really start to hate that goo”_

Bård held his hands in front of his face, peeking through a slit between his middle and ring finger.

“Vegard, no. Please, no. Stop.”

Vegard did not plan to do so. He had started stretching both his arms out towards his sides, throwing his head back and letting those styled curls fall out of place.

His eyes were closed for dramatic effect and his face held a pained expression as he kept singing with a rough voice.

_“Now I see, it's not just me who's different! It's not a curse, don't feel worse, you're just different._

_You shaved you head, r'member what I said, we are tolerant, so tolera-a-ant, so tolera-a-ant!_

_Finally, do you see? We are tolerant! Now we've found, common ground. We are toleraaaaaant!!”_

The older brother ended his performance with a punch into the air above his head and a deep bow towards his audience.

He grinned. “Do you still feel bad? I could go on....”

“God, no! I'm fine! Really, I'm great, I feel awesome! You don't have to sing more!”

Bård couldn't help but smile as he looked at Vegard and found him still grinning like a mad man.

They burst into laughter.

“No, but really, Bård. It's okay. You honestly don't look as ridiculous as I had imagined.”

“Oh, brother. What a nice compliment...”

Vegard reached out to punch Bård on the shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?!”

“For being a whiny Princess.”

“Hm.” He couldn't really argue against that, could he?

Instead, Bård curled up against a pillow, took a blanket and grabbed the TV remote.

They stayed there, watching some lame rom-com movie and eating reheated pizza from yesterday.

Half an hour into the film, Vegard heard his brother speak up.

“Vegard..?”

“Yes, Bård?”

“My head is getting cold.”

 


End file.
